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One Last Attempt
The room is a cluttered mess:
empty pill bottles strewn everywhere,
blood stain on the carpet,
one lone girl stands in the center.
Tears run down her once called “model worthy” face.
Slowly she stroked the rough rope in her hand.
Once, this rope was used as a jump rope,
in her better,
happier times.
Now is it coincidence or irony that she chose this rope.
Slowly, she turned toward the mirror.
This girl wasn't her.
This girl was unloved,
worthless,
an ugly girl with tears streaming down her eyes.
Scars and blood ran all up her arms,
hair a mess and no makeup.
Traces of old smiles and happier times were left in the face.
This face was a mask.
She threw all her weight into the mirror with her forearms.
Pieces of the mirror scattered everywhere.
Her last attempt and finding the girl who used to be there.
The rough rope slid around her neck and pulled tight.
what a lovely touching and
what a lovely touching and moving poem. just remember you are beautiful inside and out. you surely are a fighter!:)
wow. this is so beautifully
wow. this is so beautifully awful- hopefully you understand what i mean by that:P i really liked it and the way it sounded. I have long wondered what happened to the girl i used to be. i would do anything to find her
The Princess in Waiting